


What’s Done is Done

by Sydney87



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Character Death, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Suicide, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:28:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28731972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sydney87/pseuds/Sydney87
Summary: Tommy had finally given up on everything. There was nothing left for him to care about. Nothing to fight for and nobody to help him.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 284





	1. Was All This Really Worth It?

**Author's Note:**

> Bits and pieces were inspired by other stories. I will probably be making a part 2 to this I just need some opinions on if I should give people more pain or make it a more bittersweet chapter. Also, 5 am is a fun time to write angst and bring pain to people.

Tommy didn’t know when he started giving up. He thought about it all through his exile, even before that. At one point he figured out he started giving up around the first time he got exiled and Wilbur started going insane. He didn’t tell anyone about his problems though, he thought it would be better this way. He remembers everything he regrets with a weight that is so heavy that he knew he would lose his grip, and everything would come crashing down. It would come to the surface and people would find out about everything he was so desperately trying to avoid dealing with. He believed he could fix himself alone and that he didn’t need any help. _I mean he tried going to therapy but Tubbo seemed to make it this big joke. Maybe it’s because Tommy was the one trying to get therapy and why would Tommy need it? He’s perfectly fine. Or it could have been that Tubbo was just doing what he did best, maybe he was just being Tubbo._ Either way, he assumed that anybody would treat him like that if he tried to get some help. There were too many things going wrong in his life to count, and everybody has a breaking point. Everyone has a limit to how much damage their mind can take, so after months and months of exile and manipulation and betrayal, he fucking broke.   
Right before he fully gave up he had some flashbacks of some shitty things he had experienced. _Like the insufferable walls of Pogtopia and the maniacal laughs from his older brothers. He remembered the final moments before Wilbur blew up L’Manburg. When Techno had told him to die like a hero_. That one had stung a lot, his older brother telling him he didn’t care if he were to die? It felt like a slap in the face. He wanted to break down right there. _He remembered the look of triumph on Jschlatt’s face as he exiled them. When he had dragged Ranboo into his mess._ He didn’t even mean to burn down George’s house, and he still got exiled. _He especially remembered Tubbo exiling him._ His best fucking friend...  
He thought that one had hurt the most.  
He felt like everyone had betrayed him.  
He helped win wars.  
He helped save L’Manburg.

He had helped get independence for this country.

He had done **so much** , and yet it still wasn’t enough for people to actually care about him. Not Tubbo, not Wilbur, not Techno, not Philza, fucking nobody. During his time with Dream, he felt almost peaceful. Almost. He felt obligated to fight back against him, that it was Dream’s fault no one cared for him, but he knew it wasn’t true. He had given up so much including his discs. He had given up a little more each day of his exile. _When he tried to jump into that warm festering lava, he felt he might finally be happy. Then Dream had to stop him. He just had to say it wasn’t his time to die yet. Then when only Dream had come to his party,_ he knew they didn’t care about him, but he figured at least Tubbo would come. He would’ve been happy, even if he came out of pity. **Only Dream** showed up, and he was late. He thinks he may have only been still alive because of Dream at this point. Then Dream blew up his home...Dream said nobody could visit him, not that they did anyway, and that he couldn’t go to the nether. He didn’t understand why, but it was probably because Dream didn’t want him to off himself while he was gone. It didn’t matter he ran off to find big brother Techno’s house. He ran through the biting cold with a missing shoe and torn up clothes. When Techno had found him, he thought he was a dead man. He was so terrified but tried not to show it. So when Techno offered to help him he felt wanted. Though it all came crashing down when Dream framed him for blowing up the Community House. He had fought his best friend and even told him that his discs were worth more than him. He wanted so badly to go back in time and jump into the lava when he had the chance. He knew when he heard Dream ask Techno about withers that he was fucked. He knew people would want to fight for L’Manburg, and he knew they wouldn’t win. Still, for some reason, he felt like he had to protect the worthless country. So he took the role of leader and gave his speech. he figured that he only wanted to protect the country because it was the only thing Wilbur had left to remember him. As he remembered everything that had led to this point he broke.  
When he had the chance to get to Dream, he took it. He took out his book, and it was supposed to be for his 3rd novel, but he had something else written. He wrote pages and pages of goodbyes in his book for everyone, even though he knew they all hated him. He felt like he should still say goodbye. He had written them a while ago though around the time before he had run away. Then he walked up to Dream and he tried so hard to look at him confidently or some semblance of false hope in his face and voice. ~~Though he had cracked under the weight of all he was carrying. His knees buckled and he toppled over.~~  
“Dream...kill me”  
“What?”  
“Kill me, I know you want to”  
Dream didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t say anything. I mean sure he wanted to make Tommy obedient, but he didn’t want to kill him. Tommy was still **only a kid**.  
“Tommy I won’t do that, you’re only 16”  
“I don’t care Dream! Do it! And if you can’t I will! I’m ready to leave Dream! I’ve got **NOTHING LEFT!** Not Wilbur, or Techno, or even Phil! God, **I DON’T EVEN HAVE TUBBO ANYMORE!** So just do it!”  
Tommy could feel the tears running down his face as he screamed. He could feel his mind running, and his voice breaking as he shrieked. He could feel the stares from his 'friends' coming his way, and he didn’t care, he just wanted to be happy. Even if that meant he would be dead. His 'friends could hear the heartbreak and the self-hatred sharply laced in each and every syllable with enough annunciation to make a person tremble, and they were all shaking.  
“Tommy calm down”  
“Fuck off. I’ve given up so much and what do I have to show for it? Definitely not a country left, no friends either, not even a family. The one thing I had left was L’Manburg, the one thing I had left from Wilbur, and now that’s gone too. During my exile, my discs were so special to me...because they made it so I didn’t have to deal with all my problems. They were the only thing keeping me going, but not even the discs can fix this...this horrible person I've become. This mentally scarred, lonely, disappointment of a son, of a friend, of a living being. So please just kill me..”  
At this point, everybody had stopped fighting. Looking on in horror and concern for the 16-year-old. Then he just chucked a book at Dream and ran away still sobbing. No one moved for a while, they couldn't, but they all felt like they should try to help the damaged boy before he did something he couldn’t take back. They all felt some form of responsibility for Tommy acting like this, and that clouded their minds in a thick mist of guilt. Phil and Techno were the only ones to hurry after Tommy. The rest were still frozen because of what the kid had stated only a mere two minutes ago. Techno and Phil just barely saw Tommy going through the portal, and they just barely saw the once sparkling and bothersome boy running away from them. He slipped and fell but made no effort to get up, he was too tired to get up, he was too tired to keep going. So he let his ‘family’ catch up to him. He thought if he begged like how Wilbur did he might not have to face how shitty he really felt.  
“please....kill me, I can’t do this anymore”  
Techno looked at Phil.   
“Tommy we can’t do that, I can't lose another son. Especially not to my own hands again, and definitely not to suicide.”  
“Why can’t it be like how it used to? When we would all be happy and we were still living together. Why did all this have to happen?”  
“Tommy we can help you, and we can do our best to make it like back then again”

Techno and Phil spoke gently and almost at a whisper, and they let worry and fear slip into their tones of voice.   
“....I’m sorry, but as much as I’d love that, I just can’t keep doing this.”  
They jumped in surprise as Tommy promptly got up and took a running start and then plunging headfirst into the lava... They tried to reach out and stop him, but it was too late. They watched as Tommy sunk into the bubbling and boiling lava. They whispered apologies and profanities. They cried and cried, and they couldn’t help but feel guilty. They had helped blow up L’Manburg. Techno had done so twice now. There was so much that went overlooked in Tommy’s brain. It seemed like everyone had a tendency to forget that Tommy was just 16. He shouldn’t have been in wars, and shouldn’t have been exiled. No normal person, especially a child would be mentally stable after everything he had been through. So they all made a mental note to look after Tubbo and Ranboo more. They didn't think they would be able to handle another kid dying. They also didn't think Tubbo would take the news too well. They walked back to where everyone was to see them all hovering over a book. There were tears running down. It was Tommy's suicide notes. They all had one, even Dream. They explained all the things going through his head, all the self-hate, the manipulations from both Wilbur and Dream, the pain of being nobody's first pick. Everything.

A few weeks later they were all gathered together for Tommy’s funeral. It had been decorated with diamond blocks and a singular jukebox playing mellohi. It was the most heart-wrenching thing anyone had ever seen. They all would miss him and had some form of hope for the boy to come back as a ghost, but they’d have to wait and see. After a few months, most people had given up on Tommy coming back. People like Phil, Techno, and Tubbo never let go of that hope though. But things kept moving and they just thought less and less about Tommy. A hero that had been broken to the point of suicide. A friend that everyone just assumed was perfectly fine. A kid that was traumatized from so many things. And finally, a dead boy that would never come back to them, no matter how hard they hoped and prayed for him to come back.


	2. (Or Can Things Be Reversed?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghostinnit wakes up in a strange void. Colorful though. The others are all busy mourning the late teens' death. Some hold a hope that he comes back as a ghost, others are better at putting their grief into better things. But they are all suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this chapter, I've updated the last one, and I'm going to be changing the death scene a bit so you may have to go back and read it. This is a chapter more for people who want a happier ending, and I will probably be making another chapter similar to this, but full of pain instead. Still just a warning there will still be angst in this chapter, so be prepared.

When Tommy woke up he was confused. He couldn’t remember a single thing, and all he could see was a mix of warm colors. Red, yellow, orange. Mixing, swirling, changing. It helped him remember an array of things. How he died, who had tried to help him before he died, all these terrible things people did to him when he was alive. There was a certain person though, a person’s face he couldn’t seem to put a name to. He racked his brain over and over again but figured he would remember in due time. He instead put his effort into remembering all the other things he could. He faintly remembered discs, and music playing, also he remembered his older brother being killed by their father. He remembered his other brother betraying him….and his best friend **exiling** him. To say he was angry was an understatement, he was livid. He didn't understand why his friends had left him, all of them just up and gone... He had enough hate coursing through him to kill them all, but he was trapped in the blurring colors for a long time. Enough time to realize that he wasn't really angry, but he was...disappointed? Upset? He was mad at one point sure, but it was as if the entire feeling was pulled out of emotions he could feel. He tried to be angry at all these people, he tried and tried for what felt like hours. He just couldn't feel angry towards them anymore. I mean he felt like they had been close to him before. Why else would he feel so hurt when people betrayed him? He decided that he would just try to avoid them if he saw them. That is if he ever figured out where he was and how to get back to L'Manburg...or well the remnants of the godforsaken country. He knew there was no possible way to rebuild it. Dream, Techno, and Phil made sure of that. They made sure to blow it up all the way down to bedrock... 

He knew that when Tommy was alive that he didn't cry much, but he broke down. The only time when he was alive, and he let people see the product of manipulation and war was right before he took his own life. These terrible actions had invaded his mind and stomped any joy out of his body. It was so painful, not in a physical way, but it took its toll on his mental health. Not that it was great before, but now it was almost as if he was a glass sculpture like he had to be handled with such care or he would shatter. He was so fragile if he fell even from an inch above the ground, he would crack. He was in an increasing amount of pain as time dragged on, physically and mentally. It was torture for what felt like days on end he kept hyperventilating and his heart rate increased. He was almost constantly only able to see a meshing of static and the warm colors and the worst part was that there was no sound. Just quiet. A ringing made its way into his mind, permanently scarring and leaving him clawing at his hair. Tearing at skin, but making no marks. Never being able to hear his own voice. He was never able to calm himself down, and he suffered from never learning how. He never knew how the deafening silence was. How terrifying, or lonely. Then after days, months of this repeating cycle of anxiety attacks, and zero social interactions, he got so very tired. Tired of being in a void of color. Tired of being in a blank space, and a silence so loud it almost sent him into many panic attacks. He was tired enough to have the longing want and need for sleep. He thought maybe a wink of sleep could stop this never-ending cycle, and so he slowly dozed off...

It had been a rough first week and a rough few months. Quite a lot of people had gone to Tommy’s funeral. Quackity, Fundy, Ranboo, Techno, Phil, Ghostbur, Tubbo, Jack, Karl, Nikki, Sapnap, George, Dream...It was extremely tense when Techno showed up, but it fell completely silent when Dream had gotten there. No one moved, they all remembered what Tommy had told Dream, and they wondered what he had done to the poor kid during his second exile. Dream had avoided the questions he had received when people asked what he did. He pushed it aside or changed the subject. What they didn’t know was that he internalized everything he had done to Tommy and told himself that he wasn’t the only reason he had jumped. He would jump at the slightest noises, and he had been

getting less sleep than healthy. He wasn’t the only one suffering, Phil had been miserable. Phil tried his very best to be a good father, but he just kept on losing sons. He knew he had to stay with his only living son. He had yearned for Tommy and Wilbur to still be alive. He loathed and cried for as long as he could. Until the tears just stopped. He broke like a dam, but slowly it started getting repaired, along with his mental state. Techno had done his best to help out, but he also had his own issues with Tommy’s death. He knew he had caused it or had seen the product of a child he had helped traumatize. He didn’t just blame himself though, he had also blamed Tubbo and Dream because unlike anybody else, he had seen enough of Tommy to make a pretty solid guess at what Dream had done to him. Anytime he had done something minor, like lose some ore, or accidentally have a creeper blow up, he would start trembling, backing away, and taking off his armor. He looked like a scared toddler about to scream for their parents. It was extremely concerning, and when he managed to make Techno tease him in a meaner way (cobble tower I’m looking at you) he could faintly hear heaving. Like someone trying to repress a sob. He knew he wasn’t that harsh, but he stopped teasing pretty quickly. Tubbo barely even noticed a difference in Tommy’s behavior. He was the same Tommy, always in more of a leader role, loud…but there was one thing, at first he hadn’t thought much of it. Though it was a lingering thought in his mind, “if Tommy didn’t jump from that tower in Logstedshire, then why was it there? Would his best friend be stable enough to even fight another war?” He pushed all the questions to the back of his brain, and he figured he’d just ask Tommy about the tower after the war...yeah. He felt awful for letting him anywhere near the battle. For letting him see the country he worked so hard for it to be blown to smithereens, and forever unable to be repaired. For letting Niki burn the L’ManTree. For exiling him. He knew that none of this would have happened if he hadn’t exiled his friend, but there was no time machine, there was no waking up from this nightmare in a cold sweat. He knew it was real, and he hated it. He hated that either of them had been in war and that he was the president. He hated the people that gave him all his trauma, he hated that Wilbur went insane, he hated Jschlatt. He hated himself...he had never regretted something more than exiling his best friend. He knew that Tommy was probably never coming back and that before he died, he was so broken. He could never truly know how much pain and how many issues he hadn’t dealt with. He would never hear his laugh again or see his smile. His smile was the brightest one he had ever seen...He missed Tommy. Everyone did, just not as much as his family and best friend. But there were a few thoughts that were seared into his brain..."Can things be reversed? Can he come back? Will he come back?"


End file.
